Category: Art

Seizing the moment

The gritty side streets. The gilded temples. The markets. The people. The faces. Phnom Penh is a street photographer’s fantasy, an unlimited supply of intriguing scenes and standout locations.

For Dutch photographer Eric de Vries, who lives in Siem Reap, the capital offers a never-ending canvas of urban jungle, an unvarnished Asian metropolis in all its bustling splendour.

“Something is happening on almost every street corner,” he says. “It’s hectic; it’s the big city.”

De Vries – who leads a street photography workshop this weekend in Phnom Penh – works primarily in black and white. His images are moody and rich with contrast. He seems innately drawn to the existential struggle, making pictures infused with emotion and laden with multiple meanings.

“It’s all about timing,” he says. “Sometimes you’re in a good spot and have to be patient for the things to happen. In that case, you have time to frame the pictures right. Sometimes you shoot from a distance, to get the complete scene. Sometimes, you go up close and approach your subject in a sneaky way.”

As a genre, street photography is defined by its candid capture of life in public, unscripted and unrehearsed. The late French photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson was perhaps street photography’s greatest practitioner. Born in Seine-et-Marne in 1908, Cartier-Bresson was first a student of fine art, then a soldier and a hunter, before he turned to photography. As an artist, he came of age with the Surrealists, who embraced artistic rule-breaking and the free, uncontrolled flow of ideas.

In his first Surrealist Manifesto, published in 1924, Andre Breton defined Surrealism as “Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express – verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner – the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.”

It’s not hard to image Breton finding comfort in the chaotic hustle of Phnom Penh. The capital at times seems like a river of uncontrollable expression crashing against the steadfast barriers of first-world pretensions.

De Vries says that unruliness makes Phnom Penh a refreshing place to take pictures. “My favorite places are the local markets – Kandal, Olympic – because of the occasional chaos. The Building at Sothearos is also a very nice spot. It’s an old building, and it shows. Busy 24/7. Great for street photography.”

Cartier-Bresson called it “capturing the moment,” and during his workshops de Vries attempts to impart his experience not just identifying it, but learning to anticipate it. “Sometimes you catch the moment; sometimes you have to wait for it.”

A moment too soon and the facial expression isn’t right; the composition is off; the light is too harsh. Luck and natural talent are surely involved. Critiques from more experienced photographers help. But nothing can substitute for experience.

“Photography is not like painting,” Cartier-Bresson explained in a 1957 newspaper article. “There is a creative fraction of a second when you are taking a picture. Your eye must see a composition or an expression that life itself offers you, and you must know with intuition when to click the camera… Once you miss it, it is gone forever.”

WHO: Photographer Eric de Vries
WHAT: Street photography workshop
WHERE: The streets of Phnom Penh
WHEN: June 9 & 10
WHY: Learn to take pictures that don’t suck

 

The great vanishing

The first thing one notices about Jeff Perigois’ photographs of Boeung Kak Lake is the sense of absence. His images of the area in northern Phnom Penh—once the location of the city’s biggest body of water and now home to its biggest vacant lot—have an almost post-apocalyptic feel to them. The dramatic, mostly black-and-white photos of the transformed urban landscape, often cowering under roiling clouds, will be on display at his one-man show, Boeung Kak Was a Lake, at Meta House starting June 2.

The controversy surrounding Boeung Kak is well known to many. In 2008, contractors began pumping sand into the lake in preparation for a large-scale development project that will result in the construction of commercial and residential properties where once there was water. But critics from the outset have worried about the environmental and social costs of the project. Many homes and businesses have been displaced and the efforts of some families to resist mandatory relocation have met with official force.  Just last week, 13 women were given jail terms for protesting the demolition of the homes of one-time residents.

“This kind of thing is happening everywhere,” said Perigois, who took his photos at Boeung Kak in April 2011 and then again in April this year. “Things must change, and we need development so that people do not remain poor, but should we really be doing it this way?”

For him, the lake’s filling is another instance of the natural environment being replaced by concrete and he wanted to document how it has affected the people who live there. He didn’t set out to make grand gestures, and the people in his images are engaged in everyday activities—a woman selling coffee, a boy pushing his motorbike. But they are surrounded by a world that has been torn asunder by powerful financial interests over which they have no control.

Still, some of his photos do have something of the grandiose about them. While in this instance the natural world has been uprooted by man, in Perigois’ images, nature still dominates. Even the skyscrapers of Phnom Penh’s quickly changing skyline seem lost in the landscape. “No matter how much we build, we are still small compared to nature,” he said.

Perigois, 42, hails from Brittany in western France. Two decades ago he met an older photographer he wanted to learn from. The man told Perigois to take his camera out to the streets and present the world from his own perspective. He later learned the man had been a student of Robert Doisneau, one of France’s most renowned photographers, and the advice he had been given was golden.

Perigois first started coming to Asia 14 years ago and has made Cambodia his base for the last five. He has always been attracted to the country’s natural landscape and its people, which is why he was drawn to the lake and its residents, and to this dramatic transformation. “I am just a witness to this, what we are doing to the world.”

WHO: Jeff Perigois
WHAT: Boeung Kak Was a Lake, photography exhibition
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd
WHEN: June 2
WHY: See what happens when a lake disappears

 

In orb of futility, reminders of the country’s brutal past

Great artists push boundaries, expanding the definition of art until it becomes indefinable. Cambodian artists are no exception. Not long ago, Sareth Svay undertook a journey from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh which lasted more than eight nights and nine days, dragging behind him an 80kg metal sphere measuring two metres in diameter and carrying only basic food, water and a blue tarpaulin. His extraordinary feat of endurance art was called simply Mon Boulet.

Sareth grew up in the Site 2 camp on the Thai border, and it was there he first studied art (he later went on to found the Phare Phonlue Selepak art school in Battambang). His earliest memory is the blue tarpaulin on which he slept: his rudimentary bed on the floor of the forest. Decades later, the brightly coloured tarpaulin is still a significant motif among his childhood memories.

After studying in France, Sareth returned home to confront the traces of Cambodia’s recent history, and this is where the immense sphere figures into his work. “The ball is a souvenir from the past. The ball and harness allude to the European phrase ‘ball and chain’.” It signifies personal baggage, entrapment and restricted movement: Mon Boulet was a task of continual resistance against the dragging force.

The project isn’t just the metaphorical conception of a man dragging the past behind him; Mon Boulet refers to the efforts of the men, women and children who endured forced labour under the Khmer Rouge: “Men would be harnessed to carts and made to drag things behind them in the fields.”

Over the course of its journey, Sareth’s ball has been inscribed by many different hands. “People have so many questions they want to ask. I cannot remember them all, there are so many. So I have asked people to write their questions on the ball.” The sphere is thus marked by individual voices, each asking their own questions regarding the civil war; each using Mon Boulet to satisfy their need to have those questions addressed. They do not expect a verbal or written answer; they seek release from the question itself through the enduring movement of Sareth and his multifarious ball.

For those critics who continue to question the point of Sareth’s labour, there is none. That is the point. Like Sisyphus, Sareth’s journey may never have an end. He’s working through questions posed by history but probably won’t find an answer. Albert Camus, the Frech philosopher, considers that Sisyphus, being conscious of the futility of his struggle, can draw victory from his captors. That Sisyphus trundles back down the mountain to push the rock back up to the summit again, that Sareth bothers to harness himself to a metal sphere, confirms that man has not been exhausted. To make the endeavour “makes fate a human matter, which must be settled by men”. Sareth claims man’s fate from Cambodia’s tragic history and from his own past simply by enduring Mon Boulet, his self-imposed task.

Sareth prefers work that moves across great distances, which makes seeing him rather tricky. His journey was, however, filmed – and it is about to take on a different life as a film and exhibition. Mon Boulet remarks upon history by mimicking its evolution from event to museum, giving us the chance to consider Sareth’s work and the changes it is about to make to art history.

WHO: Sareth Svay
WHAT: Mon Boulet
WHEN: May 31 to June 23
WHERE: Institut Français du Cambodge, St. 184
WHY: Catch a glimpse of man’s eternal struggle

 

Facing a new future

French archaeologist Maurice Glaize, conservator of the ancient temples of Angkor between 1937 and 1945, once wrote of the gigantic grinning visages at Bayon: “Wherever one wanders, the faces of Lokesvara follow and dominate with their multiple presence.”

The enigmatic smile etched onto endless facades across the crumbling complex has the same bewitching quality as that of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Much has been written about who may have served as the model for the carved faces, some of which bear more than a hint of resemblance to 12th century Khmer king Jayavarman VII in the guise of Avalokitesvara, the great bodhisattva (enlightened being) in Buddhist lore who embodies the compassion inherent to all Buddhas.

To this day, it is a face many Cambodians turn to when confronted with the quest for national identity. And it’s a face 40 artists are about to brand with their own interpretation of precisely what that identity should be.

The Cambodia Mask Project, the end results of which will be given their public unveiling later this month, is a collaborative endeavour uniting Cambodian artists, old and new, with colleagues from across the globe, each tasked to interpret the same 60cm x 60cm papier mache face in their own way. Billed as an ‘exploration of the concepts of identity, role and history – past, present and future – in Cambodian society’, it’s a contest without limitations: the artists have been given complete freedom to chisel, spray, or otherwise decorate as they see fit.

“Masks have a distinct connection with Cambodia,” says project coordinator Steinunn Jakobsdóttir. “You see these faces everywhere, often on religious masks. The idea was to try to capture Cambodia’s identity through the use of masks, without making it religious. It’s a fun format for the artists to work with, because there are so many little details in the mask. They can build on it, they can add to it – absolutely 100% freedom of expression.

“We have 40 artists – a very good mix, both local and international, but mostly Cambodians. I started contacting artists in January, and with each artist I spoke to, I got introduced to another one and another one. It was a kind of snowball effect. There was so much interest and excitement. We have sculptors, street artists such as Peap Tarr and Lisa Mam, and painter Bo Rithy, a very exciting artist from Battambang. Among the internationals we have French street artist Julien ‘Seth’ Malland, an illustrator from Australia, and a photographer from the US.”

As with so many things, there’s more to the project than what appears at face value. During the exhibition, on June 3, a silent auction will be held to raise funds to support artists in a country where very few are able to make a living through art alone.

WHO: 40 local and international artists
WHAT: The Cambodian Mask Project
WHERE: The Plantation Hotel, #28 St. 184
WHEN: May 24 – June 23 (auction May 24 – June 3)
WHY: Witness the new Cambodia being unmasked

Proud & Loud

In May 1885, notorious Irish writer Oscar Wilde was definitely ‘out’. Convicted of gross indecency, he was sentenced to two years’ hard labour as penance for his homosexuality. As he was taken from the dock, Wilde asked the judge: “And I? May I say nothing?” The answer, apparently, was no; the trial’s spectators silenced Wilde with cries of “Shame!” Outted, certainly. Proud and loud… unhappily not.

Fast forward 117 years to Cambodia May 2012, and the last thing on anyone’s mind is shame or silence. Since 2009 the Kingdom’s LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) community has celebrated being ‘same same but different’ proudly and loudly with Gay Pride Week. Pride mixes activism, art and a week-long party, turning up the volume on those whose voices were previously marginalised and muted.

The unacknowledged silence frequently imposed on LGBT culture is examined and challenged by New Girl Law, a collaborative work by American writer/artist Anne Elizabeth Moore and a group of young Cambodian women. The work lays down 20 ‘new girl laws’ promoting gender equity for women in Cambodia, whatever their sexual orientation. In 2011 these ‘laws’ were published as a book, complete with an audio piece of the creation process.

Then the silencing began: first the audio was censored in the United States; then the laws themselves were disavowed by some of the very women with whom Moore had worked; finally, Moore herself has ‘censored’ New Girl Law for its Meta House premiere, blanking out the most controversial statements and leaving silent spaces throughout the exhibition. So what happened to being proud out loud?

“Demanding space for silence is my way of reminding people to listen,” explains Moore. “Maybe people will hear other voices. Once you begin to note where silence occurs, it becomes easier to see who is failing to be invited to speak.” However, Moore refuses to see her work as a clarion call for gender queer rights, bristling when asked if she agrees with the description of New Girl Law as ‘an account of teaching free speech where it’s least wanted’: “No, not at all. I guess it depends on who you ask.”

Picking up on the quiet questions posed by New Girl Law, the exhibition is designed to turn passive viewers into active participants. While part of the space is inhabited by New Girl Law, the show also features a Pride 2012 zine made by lesbian groups in Cambodia, and a ‘creative corner’ packed with zine-making materials. Exhibition-goers are encouraged to respond to the works around them by making their own zines or contributing to a larger group piece; by the close of Gay Pride Week this organic work will be hung alongside New Girl Law. And to those nay-sayers at the back asking “But is it Art??” (yes, you know who you are), Moore has a riposte ready: “Art is not possible without action. So of course, if you have some self-published work on the wall, you will also want to create a space for people to make their own. Why not?”

Exhibition curator Roger Nelson agrees, emphasising that the blurring of genres and forms “adds to our experience as audiences, and adds to the power and potential of both art and activism.” Nelson hopes that this admixture of art and action will lead to “conversation and dialogue – between artists, artworks and audiences – one of the primary functions of art and exhibitions”.

The exhibition therefore has a tidy circularity: acknowledging the historical silencing of LGBT culture, challenging you to engage with this silence, and creating a forum for everyone, gay, straight or curious, to make their voice heard. As Nelson says, “LGBT communities have so much to be proud of and so much to offer. They need to express this in each and every way they can.” Oscar Wilde would have been proud.

WHO: Anne Elizabeth Moore
WHAT: Conversations with Proud People
WHERE: Metahouse downstairs gallery
WHEN: May 11
WHY: If you’re out, you’re in

Seeing red: angry canvases capture the fearful condition of modern man

Last month, The Scream – Norwegian artist Edvard Munch’s seminal expressionist work depicting existential angst – was brought to London. England was instantly aflush with the immense influence of this painting, considered by many as a portrayal of the fearful condition of modern man.

Now, here in Cambodia, another artist has taken human expression as a focus of his study on contemporary mankind. Long Kusal, the next artist to be celebrated in a solo exhibition at Romeet Gallery, is a philosopher as well as a painter. First and foremost, his paintings are about truth and the human condition and “portray problems towards the solutions”, Kusal says. His work is an experiment in destabilising overbearing truths or common perceptions.

Anarchy goes hand in hand with discontent and anger. Each of the 15 paintings in this show is painted in red, the colour of rage. Although some of the faces are smiling, Kusal insists that his expressions emerge from the same anger. “Even your smile is angry,” he says.

But the colour also has its connections with Buddhism, the methods of which Kusal relies upon for inspiration. In a state of meditation, Kusal once contemplated the thread which adorns the wrist of blessed Buddhists (also, their motorbikes and car wing-mirrors) – the first medium he worked in. Although he has since abandoned the thread itself, you can still see its influence in his paintings. The twisted lines which entangle his figures and emerge from their expressions are those same red threads, but in two-dimensional form.

These paintings contribute to a portrayal of the eternal human psychology. These are pure egos, illustrations of the “fear, shock, stress and sadness” which have driven mankind forever. “There are no positive ideas in my work, only conflict.”

Although the artist denies any positivity, a light emerges from this tyrannical will to see in concrete form the absence of hope. This hope can only emerge in the process of spectatorship. When people engage with Kusal’s work, they are faced with an unbearable image of humanity. Once engaged, they have the opportunity to contemplate the issue.

He doesn’t necessarily mean for his audience to leave depressed. “Once I have made the work, it is up to people what they make of it.” The creative process doesn’t end with Kusal. In fact, it has hardly begun. Art has the capacity to mean anything, he insists. “It can be funny, angry, positive and negative”. Art is pure potential; the ultimate power, then, rests with the audience.

WHO: Long Kusal
WHAT: Solo exhibition
WHERE: Romeet Gallery, #34E St. 178
WHEN: May 3
WHY: Rage on canvas

 

Rejected at home in USA,Poet embraced by olympics

It was something of a bolt out of the blue. Cambodian-American spoken-word artist Kosal Khiev got a call from Studio Revolt, where he’s currently the artist-in-residence: they needed to talk to him.

Next thing he knew, he found out he had been chosen to be Cambodia’s representative at the Poetry Parnassus, the poetry component of the literary festival that will be held in the lead-up to the London 2012 Olympic Games. It’s the largest event of its kind.

“I never saw it coming,” the 32-year-old said, adding that to this day, he doesn’t know who nominated him. “I think that’s just amazing that you can have an impact on people that you don’t know you have.”

On June 26, Kosal will go to London to take part in poetry readings and workshops with poets from the other 203 competing nations as part of the cultural Olympiad. One project is to “bomb” central London with 100,000 works from the participating poets.

“Instead of destructive bombs, they’re bombing love and the thoughts of poets who are trying to inspire, change and motivate,” he said.

Kosal’s own journey is one that has involved recent change, upheaval even, but which has provided a good deal of motivation for young people here in Cambodia. Born in a refugee camp in Thailand, Kosal’s family went to the United States when he was one, and he grew up there, immersed in American culture. But clashes with the law, a long stint in prison and the toughening of immigration rules in the wake of the 9/11 attacks resulted in Kosal being deported to Cambodia a little over a year ago—to a land he didn’t really know.

But since that time, he has flourished, finding a spiritual home here, honing the craft he began to practice behind bars and helping young people learn to express themselves through language.

In the lead-up to the trip to the UK, a country Kosal has never visited and where he will spend more than two weeks, he is working on new material and with Studio Revolt to document the whole process. One of his dominant themes these days is the idea of Cambodia as a mother, who at one point in the not-too-distant past was sick and hurting. She couldn’t take care of her kids and, in a way, told them to leave and go live elsewhere.

“She said, ‘when I am better, I will call you back’” Kosal said. “And now, I feel like Cambodia has called me home.”

He hopes that his participation in the trip can introduce more people around the world to Cambodia and give them a richer picture of the country, not one dominated by war and genocide. He wants to show them how far the country has come.

“The thing is, me and Cambodia, we have a similar story,” he said. “I don’t want to downplay what happened here, but we both come from struggle and adversity, and we survived.

“I think that’s why I was chosen. My story represents hope and survival, and that’s what Cambodia is about. I hope I can make the country proud.”

WHO: Spoken word artist Kosal Khiev
WHAT: The Poetry Parnassus
WHERE: Southbank Centre, London, UK
WHEN: June 26 – July 1
WHY: Poets of the world, unite!

Band of Kok Thlok musicians mark latest evolution in modern Khmer rock fusion

The music sounds like something discovered in the lost archives of Kampuchea radio – smoked-out ‘70s-era jungle rock laced with Khmer instruments and melodies. The sharp, plink-plink sounds of the Khmer xylophone bounce against distorted guitar in brooding, Grateful Dead-esque sonic landscapes. The tro – a single-stringed Khmer violin of sorts – screams along to funky bass lines and moody, expressive breaks.

The music spilling from the Kok Thlok house in far west Phnom Penh is the latest collaborative effort of Gildas Maronneaud, a pre-school music teacher and instrumental force in the local music scene. His band remains nameless, and others involved remain coy about the “contemporary experimental” project built on Khmer and Western instrumentation. The nucleus comprises Kanika Pheang on drums and tro; Phat Sothlideth on the roneat, or Khmer xylophone, Adrian Jayraed on guitars, and Maronneaud on bass.

“It’s not about me,” says Maronneaud, the group’s uncomfortable French-Khmer spokesman. “It’s about the Khmer musicians. They are really, really good. They are masters.” The capital will get its first taste of the band on May 5, when the group and friends descend on The Alley Cat Cafe for a Cinco de Mayo party. “I will invite many artists from Kok Thlok to come,” Adrian says. “And we will jam.”

In the face of the imminent destruction of the Preah Suramarit National Theatre in 2008, the performers living there needed a new place to call home. Kok Thlok, founded in 2006, was largely a reaction to the theatre’s demise, and the group continues to play an important role at the centre of modern performing arts.

“Kok Thlok used to play lots of concerts with electric and traditional instruments, old Khmer rock ‘n’ roll songs,” Adrian explains. “They can play all those old songs, and they play them with the roneat and the tro. And it’s really interesting, because when you do a party and the roneat and the tro can answer, question and answer, it’s really crazy, very beautiful.”

Anonymous beginnings are something of a forte for The Alley Cat Cafe, an intimate, diner-style Mexicana joint located on the Street 19 alley. In 2006, a Tasmanian guitarist named Julian Poulson had recently befriended an intoxicating young female vocalist by the name of Kak Chanthy. The two had chemistry, and friends at the restaurant offered up a slice of the dining room floor to try out their new sound on a live audience.

Maronneaud, invited by Poulson, was at The Alley Cat that night, too. Then, as now, the band had no name, and few involved would dare speculate about what, if any, promise the future held. From that initial jam session, Poulson went on to build The Cambodian Space Project, a band of which Maronneaud is still a “huge” part.

For family and work reasons – he is a husband, father and teacher – Maronneaud prefers to play close to home, and these days, CSP is often on the road and outside the country. His latest project is in some ways an attempt to form a band that will not require such travel commitments. It is also, in deeper ways, a means to connect with his heritage. “I prefer to play with Khmer musicians,” he says. “I am half Khmer.”

Working alongside Kanika Pheang and Phat Sothlideth, the three form an easy relationship, their musical synergies evident in the music they make. It is the foundation on which some greater musical endeavor could surely can be built, and their Cinco de Mayo show holds as much promise as that first anonymous Alley Cat show, even if no one dares to say it.

WHO: Kok Thlok & associates
WHAT: Khmer rock fusion
WHEN: 8:30pm May 5
WHERE: The Alley Cat Cafe, St. 19 Alley
WHY: They could well go into the annals of Phnom Penh musical lore

Of creativity and catharsis

A white pigeon flutters free, liberated from its cage by a girl with long raven hair. A small boy wearing a blue and yellow baseball cap waves his arms in delight as a butterfly beats its wings in the wind. A couple engage in a mock dog fight with a fleet of paper aeroplanes. Self-taught Indonesian painter Mohammad Toha Hasan, the man behind these rich, colour-saturated acrylic creations, is one of several artists whose work features in a silent art auction this week. Life Creative: The Meaning of Love is hosted by arts therapy organisation The Ragamuffin Project. Among the works on offer are watercolours by Australian Tony Smibert, whose “unusual approach to English watercolour actually grew out of the study of Japanese martial art”, and oils by Italian Guido Borelli, who counts among his collectors Jack Nicholson and former US president Jimmy Carter. To register for the auction, contact olek@nullragamuffinproject.org.

WHO: International artists
WHAT: Silent art auction
WHERE: Ragamuffin House, Street 12BT, Sangkat Boeung Tumpun, Khan Mean Chey
WHEN: 5pm March 30
WHY: Because creativity can be cathartic

 

The melting away of all our yesterdays

In a conversation between curator Hannah Sender and Khmer artist Lorn Loeum, the artist emphasises the influence of Buddhism in the creation of his work. “Buddhism is not a philosophy: to me, it is a science,” he says. But in spite of Lorn’s assertion, the connection between his work and his belief is not immediately obvious in the work itself. One can come across it (as with Enlightenment) through a training of thought.

The series of images in Yesterday, No More establish the place of science within the overarching context of the temporary and unpredictable. This paradigm is achieved through a meeting of different artistic methods, including sculpture, painting and photography. Lorn carves into blocks of ice, seen carried from the markets daily in Phnom Penh, and filters paint through the grooves he creates. The result is a sense of experimentation with colour and form. He then photographs his creation and paints over parts of the image to draw out certain shapes and colours already emerging.

Lorn is not the first artist to use ice as a medium, but he is the first to treat it in such a way. The result is art which hovers on the border between abstract painting and landscape photography. What is special about these landscapes is that they are manmade and zoomed in to such an extent that we lose any surrounding environment or context. This is why the language Lorn uses to name his pieces is essential to our comprehension of it and our appreciation of his belief that Buddhism is a science.

The role of photography in Lorn’s work – to capture the moving paint as it travels through the carved ice – is in contradiction with Lorn’s choice of names for his works, and indeed for the whole series. The title Yesterday, No More establishes then negates the event of ‘Yesterday’. Contained within the three-word title is the contradiction which his work embodies. Not everything is destroyed by the ‘No More’, but ‘Yesterday’ becomes foundationless. What is left behind is faith: faith that ‘Yesterday’ refers to something in the past; now imperceptible, but indelible too.

Through the names of the pieces, Lorn indicates where science falters and belief reigns. When we look at these carved blocks of ice and dribbled paint, we are told to believe that we are witnessing unfolding beauty. We are told what we can see in the title, but we can only see its beginnings; the moment of emergence, not Beauty incarnate and obvious. Belief is the saviour of meaningfulness in Lorn’s work. We are not looking at nothing when we look at his work, but we must certainly invest some effort to see what Lorn tells us is framed in front of us.

The capacity of Lorn’s work for intellectual manoeuvering is staggering, but one needs to be told about Lorn’s beliefs before one begins to see what he wishes us to see. We are certainly not led by the hand by the artist, but contemplation will draw out the complexity of this work. Grab a coffee and sit in front of one of these paintings. You’ll be amazed at what you can get out of it.

WHO: Loeum Lorn
WHAT: Yesterday, No More
WHEN: Now until May 13
WHERE: Java Arts Cafe, Sothearos Blvd.
WHY: To see beauty, emerging